Prisoner
by Elven Nimue
Summary: The daughter of Queen Ellimere has a love for the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. But due to their close kin she knows her love is impossible to achieve. But with the help of seven great people she just might find out about a few secrets about her true heritage.
1. Prologue

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Prisoner 

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Disclaimer: Some of the characters and all the places belong Garth Nix and this is not intended to infringe the copyright in anyway, or earn any scowls from the readers, but I'm sure I'll receive some anyway. 

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Summary: The daughter of Queen Ellimere has a love for the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. But due to their close kin she knows her love is impossible to achieve. But with the help of seven great people she just might find out about a few secrets about her true heritage.

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Warning: A miniature pyromaniac and very mature thoughts of one so young.

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Prologue

A fire crackled at the hearth and its luminosity glowed in the dark room, making the room not all that dark. Besides the fire there sat a child. And the child cared for nothing else in the room except for the fire. She looked into the red and orange flames and already her mind seemed to go off. 

She didn't care if the brightness and the constant staring made her eyes hurt and water; she didn't bother to wipe her tears. They just rolled playfully off her cheek and onto her warm hand. The sudden chill that spread on her flesh made her mind jump and she thought touching that fire would be a grand thing. Perhaps, if she caught the mischievous flames she could keep them in her room, and she'd never have them go away. 

She smiled at the thought, but a voice told her stay away. But why? She thought. Why did she need to stay away? She reached her little hand into the hearth but, breaking all thought of that lovely blaze, strong hands scooped her up.

The child looked at her rescuer. It was a man, a boy more like it, with dark hair. Very dark hair, the complete opposite from her nearly forgotten inferno. His eyes though, were light, an incredibly pale blue. Like ice. And unlike the fire, the ice was kinder, and his touch wasn't so cold. But just like the fire, the ice had captured her. 

"Fire can be dangerous, little muse." His voice was warm as well. How could it be that this boy was so warm, yet his eyes look so cold?

"But it's lovely," the girl responded.

The boy chuckled, "Yes, it can be lovely. But every rose has its thorns." How was fire like a rose? She pondered this while looking into her savior's eyes. The rose's petals were like the fires flames she concluded. Maybe they were the same after all. So clever, this knight was. 

"You saved me," she said to the boy. 

"Saved you from the heat?" he asked with a grin. He set the girl down and she looked up at him.

No, she thought, you saved me from the fire. Heat is what burns in me now that you saved me. Saved me and yet your eyes are keeping me prisoner, just like the flames did.

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Note: Is it a keeper? I hope you can guess who they people are. If not, that's okay, I'm probably going to continue anyway.


	2. Vlare's Passion

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Disclaimer: Some of the characters and all the places belong Garth Nix and this is not intended to infringe the copyright in anyway, or earn any scowls from the readers, but I'm sure I'll receive some anyway. 

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Note: All my fics that I've written so far connect in a way. Haha! Connected! You'll see what I mean. Maybe, later.

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Warnings: Obsessive behavior, _very_ mild incestuous thoughts, and one tiny Mary Sue moment. How annoying. 

Big thanks to beta reader **Catspaw**. 

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Chapter One: Vlare's Passion 

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Aunt Lirael should be visiting today, the young lady told herself. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, to the spongy sand and the good-natured waves that covered her white toes. She looked up, and with sharp eyes she inspected the harbor. There were few boats in this part of the waterfront, only a few fisherman's sailboats scattered on the waves. It was a lovely day, and the gulls skimmed over the cerulean clear water, laughing amongst themselves as if they were asking the woman why she wasn't out in the water herself. 

She inhaled a breath full of salty fresh air, and exhaled with a depressing sigh. She picked up her shoes and left the beach. Each step became a little more difficult as the sand became looser, but her mind dwelt on different matters. Her stare was once again on the ground and her mind wandered as usual. A hymn came to her lips and she sang softly to herself, letting a smile play upon her face. 

Her tune continued as she came to a gate that was the border between the sea and the gardens. Passing that gate would be passing from the sand to the grass, and the many other things that stirred in her head. Her mother would not want her walking barefooted amongst the grass and sticks and soon the hot stones of the courtyard, but she never really cared if the stuff pierced her flesh or if the ground burned her feet. No, her mother wouldn't want that, but then again her mother wanted a lot of things and a Queen couldn't have everything she desired, as her mother used to tell her. _No, _the lady thought, _not everything._ Another sigh escaped and her humming ceased as she looked around the gardens and saw two guards chatting near the door to the watchtower. 

It was late spring and a few of the summer flowers were coming into bloom. Tulips and lilies lingered; a couple of bees flew around the area but the woman took no heed to them. 

She walked forward on a stone path that wove through the many plants and flowers and decided another song was in order. Her tune was soft and pleasant, the Midsummer Festival tune; she beamed again as the sun's lovely rays fell on her head and her face. She sang to herself in the warmth. 

"You look happy today, Vlare," the guard said with a grin. 

The young woman inclined her head towards the men and smiled. This elderly guard had been with her family since her mother was a girl about Vlare's age; he was a nice man with a fatherly smile. 

He reminded her of Sameth, his silence always peaceful and serene. She hadn't seen her uncle since her sixteenth birthday. After he went back to reform the Wallmakers when Vlare was twelve she saw little of him less and less. Sameth was always her favorite of her relatives. 

The guard, who was called Brel, reminded her of her uncle so much, she decided to spend time with him in Sameth's absence. She used to walk with him on his guard duties, neither of them either saying a word for long minutes. _He is too old to walk these walls, he should be home, _she thought. 

"My aunt Lirael is arriving this afternoon." Vlare's smile widened. 

"I heard your mother speaking of it, yes. Is Torrigan coming with her?" the other guard asked kindly. He was Brel's son Chas, she remembered. And unlike his father his hair was fair, a blond color, similar to Vlare's. 

Vlare's smile vanished. "Yes, I suppose my cousin will be coming too."   


Suddenly it seemed the warmth of the sun died, and had stranded her in the cold once again. 

"I think I shall retire to my room, until my relatives arrive." She bid them a good day and walked to her chamber. Her feet were cold on the palace's marble floors, but not as frosty as the sensation in her body. Vlare shivered deliciously as she quickened her pace. _He hasn't seen me in four years. I was fourteen then. I've changed a lot. Maybe he'll notice._ Vlare smiled to herself and entered her room. She flopped on her bed and brushed the dried sand off her feet onto the floor. She lay on the cushions and closed her eyes. 

Where was sleep now? She wasn't tired anymore, why couldn't the cold leave? Vlare opened her eyes and turned on her side. It was lazy of her to lie like this on a perfectly good day, when probably her mother needed help. She traced the embroidery with her fingertips as she thought. 

He had short hair when she saw him last, still dark as midnight. He was tall then too, very tall, much taller than his mother or father. She didn't expect him to grow any more, though. His voice was deep but always full of mirth as he spoke. He smiled, much more than his parents; he was always very happy. 

Vlare smiled to herself as another memory flooded her mind. She wondered if he was wearing the surcoat under his cloak, like he always did. He hardly discarded the bells and his billowing navy blue cloak; the attire always made him look far more serious than he really was. 

But Vlare loved his eyes far more than anything else the world had to offer. His lovely blue eyes that reminded her of the sea, or the Clayr's Glacier. They were beautiful; they spoke so much more than his voice. They were poetry, words spilling into her head, making her think of only him. Precious jewels they were to her, and if she could she would look into them until the years of her life were utterly spent. Those eyes bound her, and they'd plan to keep her. This binding caused Vlare, daughter of Ellimere, to love Torrigan, son of Lirael; and she would love him still, beyond the Ninth Gate. 

Her eyelids drooped and she thought no more. 

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"_What are you doing_?!" 

The sudden shriek had caused Vlare to jump violently out of sleep. Her heart hammering inside her chest she turned around to face her waker.   
  
With her dark hair tied tightly in an elegant knot in the back of her head and diamond earrings dangling off her small earlobes, Queen Ellimere stood at the foot of Vlare's bed. She had a furious look on her face and her graceful arched eyebrows curved dangerously. 

"_Sleeping! _I don't believe this! Your aunt and cousin arrived nearly four hours ago and they were both wondering where you were and I find you _sleeping?" _Her mother's voice quivered with anger, her hands on her hips. 

"Four hours ago?" Vlare asked groggily. Surely she hadn't been asleep that long. Vlare put her hand to her temple and rubbed gently. She turned to the direction of her window and saw, indeed, the twilight. 

"Yes! Not only is that rude, it's extremely lazy of you!" Vlare got up and rubbed her eyes. Her mother wasn't much taller than her, maybe an inch apart, but she still felt ghastly small compared to her mother. 

"Fix your hair! And Vlare, put something decent on, you don't want to look like a ragamuffin in front of your family!" 

"Well mother, they _are_ my family. Why should it matter?" This earned Vlare an evil warning glare, and without another word Ellimere slammed the door, leaving a still quite tired Vlare. 

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Four hours? Vlare groaned and quickly turned to her closet. A simple green gown would do for now. She didn't need to get too dressed up.

  
  
After dressing properly, combing her own hair, and tying it quickly into a neat bun, she departed to the entry hall where her relatives would be waiting. 

Lirael was a lady of her early fifties and she indeed looked it. Her dark hair was graying and the tiniest wrinkles could be found beneath her gentle eyes. She wore the surcoat of a Remembrancer, a deep red fabric and golden keys. And, like all the Abhorsens before her, the bells hung gracefully on her chest. 

Her son stood next to her, quite tall, just like she remembered. His hair was longer though, in a dark braid that fell almost as far his mother's. When he wasn't looking at a person he seemed perfect for the role of Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Lordly and grim, his eyes sparkled with life and yet they held so much wisdom it was as if they were clouded. Unlike his mother he wore a blue surcoat, as her grandmother did. Vlare always remembered clinging to it as a child when she hid from her older brother Kano in games. Torrigan was always there to save her. 

"Cousin," he said as he saw Vlare's approach. Vlare smiled and hoped she did not blush when he returned the smile with so much love. _Not the love I seek though. _

"Hello, I haven't seen you in so long." Vlare shared an embrace as he stepped forward to properly greet his kinsman. As she held him she inhaled the sent of his braid. He smelled of metal and Charter magic, or was it the bells she smelled? The objects tainted him so. 

Knowing that it was rude to not greet her aunt, Vlare departed from her cousin Torrigan's arms and embraced Lirael. As her aunts arms wove around to her back she felt cold. It was, of course, the hand. Lirael had lost her hand so many years ago, and her new, Charter made hand was now gold and cold. Lirael Goldenhand they named her, and already she was legendary throughout the Old Kingdom. 

"It is good to see you, aunt," Vlare said as she broke the embrace. 

"Yes, it is good indeed. You have grown Vlare, and we have missed you," Lirael said, glancing to her son behind Vlare. 

"And I you, aunt." Vlare wasn't much of a conversationalist. She glanced toward the direction of her cousin. He was looking at her. Vlare smiled. 

"I'm sorry I am a little late." Vlare tucked a loose tress behind her ear. She sighed and looked at her aunt. 

"Don't be, we were visiting your brother. He has grown indeed, hasn't he?" Lirael sat down carefully in one of the chairs in the dining room. 

"Yes, he is twenty now," Vlare said as she took a seat next to her aunt. Torrigan remained standing behind Vlare until he went behind his mother and placed his hands on her shoulders. 

Lirael's real hand went up to touch her son's as she continued, "Kano is older, yes, and he is good-looking." She raised her eyebrows at this slightly and thought about it. "Well, more like his grandfather really," Vlare smiled at this. Her brother was just like her grandfather; dark haired with thick eyebrows, but still handsome enough. 

"And," Lirael added scanning the night sky through a window, "he has a wife." Her hand squeezed her son's gently. 

Vlare looked at Torrigan and tried to hide her frown. His eyes were sparkling; he rolled his eyes and grinned at Vlare. 

"If you weren't the Abhorsen-in-Waiting I'd expect you to be married by now. Kano is two years younger than you." Lirael looked serious and she sighed and got up with the help of her son. 

"Yes, mother, I know. Why don't you find Ellimere? You two haven't talked much," Torrigan said to her. 

"You want to get rid of me faster and faster I see-" Torrigan smiled at this. "All right. I should see my niece, I haven't talked to her." Lirael smiled and walked out of the hall, leaving Vlare in Torrigan's presence. 

"My mother _is _getting older, no doubt. She's become more mischievous as of late." He shook his head and laughed a bit. "It's as if she's finally come out of her shell." 

"It takes a while," was all Vlare could say. 

Torrigan looked at her and grinned. "Yes, it takes awhile. But not fifty years." Vlare laughed at this. "I wonder," he asked quietly, looking at Vlare intently (she was blushing by now), "if it'll take _you _fifty years to come of your shell." Vlare blinked. 

"Are you saying I'm anti-social?" Her eyes stared suspiciously with jest. 

Torrigan laughed and looked at her harder, directly into her eyes, as if he could almost read her. 

"Not anti-social, just quiet." He flopped down onto his mother's vacant seat and sprawled out contentedly. 

"Your brother Kano is rowdy, loud, and obnoxious," --Vlare laughed heartily at this, though Torrigan kept a mask of seriousness-- "your sister Briel, I've heard is timid, but she can be very flirtatious . It's amazing how people put those two together," he said offhandedly, causing Vlare to giggle. "And your mother is commanding and beautiful." Vlare pretended not to look upset, was he saying he didn't think she was beautiful? Not that it mattered: her brother taunted her often of her clumsiness and overly freckled face, and her younger sister didn't openly say it but she was a flower compared to Vlare. Loveliness was something found often in her family, and yes, she was partly lovely, but she had never been called beautiful. She never expected Torrigan to say something like that. 

Torrigan however, laughed. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. Vlare looked at him severely. Why did his lovely face hide such a horrible beast? 

"Cousin, don't be angry with me. You are lovely. You are more lovely than your mother. Don't hide your loveliness away from everybody." He looked at her and came closer. His hands grasped hers and she instantly felt a tremor pass through her body. Its icy goodness caused her heart to jump into her throat. 

His eyes were a thousand times lovelier as he looked at her only inches away. "If I weren't your cousin, I'd love you more." He smiled nicely and planted a kiss on her hot cheeks. 

"Now," he said, as he got up and grasped the hilt of his sword at his belt, "I must find your sister, I haven't seen her since she was an infant." He gave her one last smile and departed. 

When his footsteps ceased she put her face in her hands. _If I weren't your cousin, I'd love you more. _Her lip trembled and she inhaled quivering. He was so gentle, and loving. He'll never know. What could she do? If he asked her to jump off the glacier Starmount she would. If he asked her to be his wife she would. _Why?_ Was the question she often asked herself. She was trapped, in his loving, cold embrace of words and movement. Why would the Charter make her this way? What could she do? 

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Touchstone.  
  
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A/N: In case your wondering (but I'm sure you figured it out) Torrigan is named after Touchstone. As for Vlare, her history is that Touchstone named her after a lady in the other story, _Sword, Ice, and Blood. _She hasn't appeared yet though, oops, that spoiled something! ::wicked grin::

Take a look at a Garth Nix forum board, made especially for the Old Kingdom. pub150.ezboard.com/bbelisaere


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